


A Neverending Nightmare

by Vaelegol



Category: Josh Washington/Chris - Fandom, Until Dawn (Video Game), climbing class - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 01:27:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5028364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaelegol/pseuds/Vaelegol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this took so long and is so short. Ive just had to deal with things lately. I'll try as hard as I can to finish this soon.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It had been several months since the disappearance of Josh's sisters. He remained aware of this all to well. Many of the people, his “Friends,” he felt had forgotten them, and the things that they did to them. They never spoke of it, or verbally expressed to Josh how they felt. The only ones staying around really were Sam and Chris.

Sam, openly admitting her guilt not even a week after the incident. Chris, well, was passed out drunk along side Josh. Chris felt more of a pity for Josh, rather than guilt. Josh rather than feeling sorrowful, well, along with his sorrow, felt an overwhelming guilt. A guilt that only he could feel or have. He was their big brother, their protector yet, he wasn't there, rather, he was indulging in childish drinking games.

“Bro, you need to stop blaming yourself.” Chris' voice sounded form the door frame of Josh's bedroom. Josh had been curled up on his windowsill, staring out into the sky, almost day and night. Josh merely glanced at Chris the bags under his eyes more prominent than usual. “I can't expect you to understand.” he said meekly, tightening his grip on his legs. “I can't if you don't explain.”

Chris let out a loud sigh, walking over and sitting by Josh. A look of disapproval crept across Chris' face. “Don't you get bored sitting here all day?” Josh's gaze shifted to Chris, staring at him, eyes filled with utter sadness, anguish, even. “My head keeps me busy.” Chris could hear the sadness in his voice as if it was screaming.

“D-Did you want to talk about it? Any of it? At all?” Josh's anxiety rose at the question. It's not that he _didn't_ want to talk about it he just felt it to hard to find all the right words. Every time he tried, he mumbled and stuttered, every word like a brick wall to him. He decided to give it another attempt. “I-I. It's. Just that. I.” Chris placed his hand on Josh's shoulder. “Calm down. Think it all through.” His tone was reassuring to Josh.

Josh took in several deep breaths, exhaling slowly. He began to fidget. “It's just. I'm their brother. Their big brother. I'm supposed to protect them.” Josh's eyes began to water, fidgeting more. “Instead, I was passed out drunk.” Chris gave Josh an intense look as if listening, but disagreeing with almost every word. “It's my fault that I wasn't there. It's my fault that they're gone.” Josh devolved to tears as he spoke. “Josh, we told you, it's not your fault. You couldn’t have done anything. Plus, what if you never came back? Then I'd be here all alone.” Chris' face went slightly pink. “Maybe I deserve that.”

Josh's tone was small. His entire body, small. Almost as if he wished to become non-existent. “Josh.” Chris gave a concerned look. “Come here.” Chris moved closer to Josh. Guiding him into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Josh's chest, pulling him closer. “Please Josh. Don't talk like that.” Chris said in a low tone by Josh's ear as they both stared out the window. Chris could feel Josh's body shaking. “I just. I can't take it all sometimes. The nightmares, the thoughts, the guilt.” Josh became accepting of the position they were in. Beginning to cry, he breathed in slowly. Holding it. Then releasing. Essentially, breathing at half the pace of Chris' breaths.

“You know I'll always be here for you, bro. Just call.” Hearing this, Josh felt reassured. Speaking about it with Chris made him feel somewhat better, but still pretty terrible. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He snuggled up to Chris' chest more closely. They sat there for nearly an hour, occasionally speaking, Josh being uncertain and depressed, Chris reassuring him and holding him more tightly.

“Sorry Josh, but I have to go now. I have classes soon.” Josh didn't want him to leave, to be alone, but he understood. “Okay. Uh, will you be back tomorrow?” letting off an awkward smile. “Of coarse. Later bro.” Chris walked out of Josh's room, grabbed his things, and waved goodbye at Josh in the window. Driving off.

Today was the first day that Josh didn't feel moody or depressed in what felt like an eternity. For once, he decided to leave his windowsill and watch some T.V for the day. Not much was on though. Talk shows, cooking shows, old movies, cartoons, not much that interested him. He didn't mind though, he was just happy to be up and around, to be alive.

The rest of the day went well. T.V, food, the occasional check in texts from Chris, all in all everything was going great. Later into the night, around eight, Josh grew tired of the T.V. He decided that he would listen to some music. He had no idea what CD was in the player, but he aimed to find out. He turned on the radio, increased the volume, then hit play.

Sound reverberated through the lonely halls of the mansion. Josh felt a lump form in his throat and his mind raced. He hadn't realized that Hannah and Beth had left their favorite CD in. All of the thoughts came flooding back, far worse than ever before. He fell to the ground, attempting to hold back tears, but not being very successful. He ran his fingers through his chocolate brown hair, clawing at his skin. “No. No.” He fished his phone from his pockets.  
He looked at the time. He wanted to call Chris but assumed he was studying or asleep, not wanting to be a bother. Josh stood up from his daze, fumbling into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and some Vodka, he walked back in front of the speakers and sat down on the floor, crying. He poured himself a double shot. Slamming it down, a burning sensation going through his throat, down to his stomach. Shot after shot he drank his sorrows, the CD echoing in his mind, the images of Hannah and Beth all to clear.

Beginning to feel tipsy, he let his mind free from the shackles of his will. “I'm sorry.” he sobbed, laying back on the floor. “I wish I was awake that night you ran off into the snow.” His sobs grew louder and stronger, nearly overwhelming him. He gazed at the near empty bottle of Vodka. Anger, guilt, and sadness flooding over him. “This is the entire reason all of this happened. They're _dead_ because of this,” He threw the bottle into the wall, shattering glass everywhere. His mind wandered further into the darkness of his own creation.

While he could still think, he picked up his phone. 11:30. The time didn't bother him. He pulled up the texts between him and Chris. Trying to keep the thought of him in his head. All of his kind words, his presence, the warmth of his touch. As soon as they would appear in his mind, they would disappear into the dark fog. Through his slightly blurred vision, he attempted to text Chris. “Chris. It's getting really, really, bad again. I don't know what to do. Are you awake? Please help me.” His fingers missed a third of the keys. _Thank god for auto correct_ , he thought.

He had no idea if Chris would reply tonight or not, but god, he hoped that he would. Staring at the roof, music, still playing, his phone in his right left hand. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” Running his hands through the carpet, he pricked his right hand on a shard of glass. He held his hand in front of his face, inspecting it. Small drops of blood falling ho his cheek.

A dark thought formed in his head. Even he protested it but, his body was not entirely his own. He guided his hand to a large shard of glass, careful to lift it. Checking the time again, he set the glass shard down on his chest. “It's four? But I-” He stopped himself, aware of being still tipsy and unaware of time passing. Setting down his phone, he picked up the shard and stared at the slight reflection of himself.

No longer crying, he just, stared, observing the man in front of him. Looking in pity and disgust. “I'm sorry.” he whispered. Taking the glass, he set the jagged point against his forearm, dragging it slowly through his skin, a river of red following in its path. He winced, but the pain slowly faded into numbness, his mind screaming _You deserve this!_ The blood felt warm on his skin, giving him a sick sense of reassurance.

Again and again, cutting, shredding his skin, not even an inch apart, his mind racing. The blood flowed down his arm, a warm river of death soaking the carpet around him staining it auburn. His skin began to look slightly paler to him, now becoming frigid. Not once questioning what he was doing, merely acting, allowing his thoughts to take control.

His head began to spin, his vision becoming blurred completely. He felt no pain any longer, a mixture of booze and sadness attributing to it. Unsure of why he began to feel so tired, he dropped the bloodied glass shard beside him. Closing his eyes, passing out on the floor. Nothing, but darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Josh's hearing slowly came back, just a continuous high pitched ringing. He could feel his body being shaken. Trying to open his eyes, the room seemed illuminated by a holy white light. As his hearing and eyes slowly came back he could see a figure, kneeling beside him, shaking him. Groaning, he listened “Josh?! Josh, please!” He forced his eyes to focus, Chris, coming into view.

Chris had tears streaming down his face, his tone, Josh could tell that he was terrified. Still weak, Josh breathed out “C- Chris?” Chris breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. Taking Josh's head, he set it in his lap, hugging him. Josh had very little memory of the earlier morning. All he knew is that he felt cold, his arm burning. “Josh... I'm so sorry.” Chris had a pain in his voice, nearing despair. “Why?” Josh could barely move otherwise he would have hugged Chris. “I wasn't here for you. You needed me!” His tears ran onto Josh's cheek.

With the little movement he had available, he placed his hand near Chris' eye, wiping away his tears, forcing out a smile. “You're here now.” Josh could feel his strength slowly returning, afraid to see what he had done. He kept his eyes locked to Chris. Chris placed a little kiss on his forehead, holding tighter. “I thought I'd lost you.” Josh remembered the text he had sent to Chris. “Chris. I'm so sorry.” Josh was much more capable of speaking now. “Do you remember any of last night?” Some memories had come back, but not all. “Vaguely.” 

Josh leaned forward slightly, enough to see his left arm. It was covered in dry blood and had gashes all up and down. He dropped his head back into Chris' lap, tears beginning to form. “Please don't cry.” Chris stroked his hair. “Do you think you could stand?” Josh gave an unsure nod. Setting Josh's head down, Chris stood up. “Uh, here. I can help you up to your room.” Chris knelt down and picked up Josh, one hand by his knees, the other close to his shoulders. He carried Josh, struggling slightly, up the stairs and into his room.

Setting him down on the bed, he walked into the bathroom. Josh could hear the sink turn on, then back off a few moments later. Chris walked back in with a wet towel and cloth bandages. “Here, I'll clean you up.” Chris walked beside Josh and grabbed his hand. Lightly, he dabbed, the thickness of the dried blood came off. Josh felt relieved. “Thanks, Cochise.”

Chris took his time. Making sure that the cuts wouldn't re-open. Then, bandaged his entire arm. “Do you need a hospital?” Josh felt better than he did, but not quite 100%. “No. I should be alright.” Chris let out a weak smile. Chris stood up and got into bed with Josh, pulling his head into his lap again, lightly running his temples. “What are you doing?” Josh honestly didn't care, it felt pretty nice. “Nothing. Just making sure you're okay.” His tone sounding sincere, yet dark. 

“I'm really sorry, Chris.” Josh sighed and shut his eyes, grimacing slightly. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We talked about this.” Chris hugged Josh's head. Josh thought he smelt kind of nice. “No. I'm sorry for being such a bother and worrying you so much.” He looked up at Chris, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. “You don't bother me Josh. I told you. I love spending time with you.” Chris placed a small kiss on Josh's forehead. For the next hour they sat there, in near silence. 

“You hungry?” Chris asked. “ A little, not really though.” Chris sat up, bringing Josh with him. “I'll make some breakfast and you can eat what you want of it.” Chris smiled and stood up. He guided Josh to the kitchen, holding his hand to make sure he doesn't fall over. The entire way, Josh experimented with his new bandages. Bending and flexing his arm, slight pain going through it. 

Josh sat down at the kitchen table, observing the glass. Chris went straight to cooking, rummaging through the cabinets. Grabbing, eggs, bacon, began some toast, and fixed Josh a glass of Sprite. “The Sprite will help if you get nauseous. And I hear it's great for hangovers.” Chris' attempt to lighten the mood through humor was appreciated. Even if only working slightly.  
Chris continued to make a simple breakfast, speaking with Josh in pleasantly false tones. Josh thought the food smelled delicious, but his appetite was still petite. Chris put all the finished meal on plates and placed them on the table, near Josh. He could see the look of hope on Chris' face. To make him happy, he knew he would have to eat something, even if it was one piece of bacon. Josh took a spoonful of scrambled eggs and several pieces of bacon as Chris sat down next to him. Josh politely waited for Chris to finish making his plate before ever grabbing his fork. “I hope it tastes okay.” Chris' low self esteem showing. 

Josh smiled, picking up his fork and taking several bites of egg. It wasn't bad. He watched Chris as he ate. Chris' hand on his lap, his posture perfect. Josh thought it strange to just now notice after their close ten year friendship. “Why are you staring at me?” Chris asked, his face blank. Josh blinked several times, becoming slightly embarrassed. Playing with his hair nervously, he replied, “Oh! I, uh. Nothing.” He couldn't think of anything to say. Shrugging it off, Chris proceeded to finish eating. 

Finishing, he grabbed his and Josh's plates and went to clean them in the sink. Josh didn't like the idea of Chris doing everything, so he offered to help. “Here. Let me wash the plates.” Chris gave him a disapproving smile. “No.” Short and simple. “To bad. That wasn't a question.” Josh began forcefully nudging Chris from the sink with his hip. “Fine.” Chris walked back to the table, grabbing the plates still containing food. “I'll put this in something in case you get hungry later.” After they were all done cleaning, they went into the living room and sat down on the couch together. Chris smiling awkwardly towards Josh.

Josh's face went grim. When you got here you heard the music. Didn't you?” Chris gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah, what about it?” Josh placed his knees up against his chest. “It was their favorite.” Warm tears began to come from Josh's eyes, down his cold skin, Chris suddenly understanding. “Josh.” His voice trailed off. Chris moved closer to Josh. “I know you've been dealing with a lot. All on your own, but, place your hand over your heart.” Josh followed his instruction, placing his hand onto where his heart was, the soft fabric of his shirt between them. “Feel that? That's called purpose. You are here for a reason. Don't forget that.” Josh's crying worsened. Why is he still here? Why is he so nice? Josh questioned all of this in his head.

The dark thoughts still lingered in his mind. He deserves better. With you gone he'll be happy. You make everyone around you miserable. You're pathetic. He tried to ignore them, but couldn't fully. “Why did you stay?” Chris gave a surprised, yet confused expression. “What do you mean?” Josh could tell by his tone that he understood perfectly well what he meant, but he clarified anyway. “Everyone else left me. Even my parents are gone most the time. So, why didn't you leave with them?” This wasn't really the first time Josh had asked this, but usually he tried to do it in more indirect means.

Chris could be heard swallowing, awkwardly twiddling his thumbs. “Well.” He paused a moment, staring into Josh's eyes. “You're my best friend. Since third grade. We've always been close. What kind of friend would I be to just leave you?” Josh laughed slightly. “A pretty shitty one.” Josh knew long Chris long enough to be able to tell when he was telling the whole truth but he decided to let it slide this time. Josh leaned over and buried his face in Chris' chest. Chris leaned back to lay down, reaching out for the remote, his hand entangling in Josh's hair.

Thunder cracked, startling both the boys. Josh hadn't even realized that it had gotten cloudy, or that they had a chance for rain. Light pattering could be heard against the windows. Chris set down the remote, Josh though it because they always loved to listen to the rain together. Josh kept his face against Chris' soft sweater, feeling the warmth of his body. Turning to his right cheek for better breathing and speaking. 

Together they laid there, listening to the river raining down from the sky in form of drops. Focusing on the sound, Josh, listening to the sound of Chris' calming heart. His own slowly falling into rhythm. Every breath he took in made Josh rise upward slightly. The soft movements calming his already high strung nerves. Chris' voice sounded in a near whisper. “Peaceful, isn't it?” Josh laughed. “Calm before the storm, bro.” Chris smiled. “well, it's already storming.” Back to the sound of the storm occurring outside Josh's home, reveling in each others warm embrace, neither really wanting to move.

“Remember how much we used to love doing things like this?” Chris asked. “Yeah, we would just sit here, listen to the rain, and just, talk.” Josh gained a feeling of Nostalgia, remembering all the good times they had. His chest becoming warm, his stomach raising butterflies. Chris stared out the window. “I'd give anything to go back to those.” Josh grabbed onto Chris' arm, trying to be as comforting as possible. “Yeah. Me too.”

The sound of the rain becoming louder. The storm intensifying, leaving the sight outside merely a misty fog. Thunder sounding more frequent. “The powers probably going to go out, you know.” Josh said, shutting his eyes. “Doesn't bother me. You?” Chris smiled. “Not in the slightest.” Thinking about it, Josh loved this. His mind was finally calm. Chris smelled like lavenders. He didn't feel alone or the least bit suicidal. Fear began forming in his mind. This is how you felt before and look where that got you. Your arm the glass, your blood the drink being poured.  
Josh was used to these arguments with himself. Normally, he was never so self-abusive. Then again, none of this situation is normal. Nothing about him is normal. Perhaps, that was a good thing.

Thunder sounded and the lights in the kitchen turned off. Josh looked at Chris, smirking. “You can't leave till the storms gone.” A mocking tone about him. “Bro. I told you. I'm not leaving anyway.” Josh could feel his face heat up. Unsure of how noticeable it might have been, he put his face back down. Why am I blushing? Is this normal? Josh questioned himself in his head. Choosing to ignore it, he used the simplest line he could think of. “I appreciate it.”

It rained throughout the entire day, the power occasionally flickering back on just to inevitably die again. Chris and Josh moved very little. Josh, tired from the events of the earlier morning. Chris, tired from excessive studying and classes. Eventually, they both just drifted off to sleep. Josh, going from Chris' peaceful embrace, to the inner turmoil of his own subconscious.


	3. Chapter 3

He found himself back at the large wooden cabin. Dark, cold, snow drifting in through a slightly ajar window. “Hello?” Josh called, receiving no reply. He was alone in the place of his nightmares. Josh walked into the main room. Several pieces of furniture adorned around a stone fireplace. It was to dark to accurately see color, only vague shapes arranged in varying shades of dark. Josh walked over to a sofa, placed so the fireplace faced it directly. A small box lying in the center of it.

Hesitantly Josh moved towards the box, crippling fears grabbing a hold of him. Goosebumps creeping across his skin. Now, in front of the couch, he stared at the box. Suddenly, there was a loud crack behind him. He spun around. The smell of burning wood filling his nostrils. The fire was now lit, a perfect orange flame dancing along the logs and air. Josh turned back around, now clearly able to see the music box. “No.” His eyes became warm, flooding with tears. The box was an old gift he had given to Hannah and Beth.

It wasn't very large, but wide. Beautifully made of dark wood. Josh opened it up slowly, revealing the pink, velvety inside. A beautiful ballerina, slowly beginning its automated dance. Sound came from the box as if he had just bought it. A familiar sound coming from across the room. “Josh, you always knew that was our favorite.” The young nursery rhyme song “ _Frère Jacques_ . ” Josh's head twisted to the door across the room. Two female figures appearing in the frame.

The two figures moved towards him, the room feeling ice cold now. His blood freezing him in place. They began to sing in unison with the notes of the box. Low, seductive, and dark. Josh's mouth gaped in horror, the dark familiar figures now coming into the light of the fire. His sisters. Hannah and Beth. Covered in blood, torn clothes, black eyes. Not a normal black, more of a Ventablack color. “You're not real.” Josh tried to step back, but his feet no longer responded. Hannah walked over to him, no longer chanting, Beth staying where she was. “Oh really now. Tell me Josh. If I wasn't real, could I do this?” The smell of roses field Josh's nose, a sharp pain now in his side.

He looked down. Hannah had used her nails to stab straight through his clothes and into his side. Blood began to slowly trickle down to the floors, drenching her now crimson nails. Hannah leaned forward, whispering into his ear, her breath colder than the room. “Am I real now?” She twisted her hand and jerked it out, chunks of blood following with. Josh bit his lip to avoid crying out. “B-But you're dead?” Beth now stopped chanting, and walked to the opposite side of him. “We might be dead physically, but we'll never leave your mind.” Beth grabbed Josh's hand, running her index finger along his palm. “No. This is all just a dream. I'm with Chris and I'm happy.” This elicited action from Beth. “Is this a dream? I thought in dreams you never felt pain.” Beth grabbed onto his pointer finger, pulling with insane force. Josh screamed out, an unbearable pain now shooting through his hand.

Both the girls laughed. Beth smirked. “Aw, did that hurt?” Her tone cynical. “Why don't we try another?” Beth grabbed onto Josh's thumb. “N-No! Please! Please! Don-” Josh's screams filled the silent air again, the pain far more intense before. It felt like his fingers were being pulled off by a motor cycle. Pain began radiating up his arm. Hannah walked beside Beth, placing her hand on her shoulder. “Why not torture him some more.” Beth smiled. “Well, he did leave us to die. Alone. Cold. While he sat there. It's his fault that we're dead.” The room they were standing in was now slowly fading away, nothing but cold, solidified darkness.

“Ooh, I know what we could do.” Hannah now replaced the position of Beth. Josh was crying far harder than he ever had, his cheek completely wet, dripping into small puddles at his feet. Hannah grabbed Josh's hand and gave him a terrifying look, her eyes going wide. Josh realized what she might try. “No! Please Hannah! NO!” Hannah gripped the severely broken index finger, pulling back with twice Beth's force. The pain far worse. The finger came clean off, blood gushing out of the stub. Ripped muscles and tendons dangling freely, the bone completely exposed, almost looking like it had been crushed in half. His finger was now gone, thrown into the darkness.

The only feeling left where it had been was a phantom feeling, knowing it wasn't there, yet still feeling as if it was. “W-Why are you doing this to me.” His sobs were loud, yet still seemed drowned out. They both smiled, and glided back several feet. “Tell us Josh, would you rather us do it to him?” Josh looked up in horror. Chris was now bound in front of him, a terrified expression on his face. “Josh!? What's happening?” Beth slowly walked to Chris' side, playing with his pale hands.

“NO! PLEASE! LEAVE HIM ALONE! DON'T TOUCH HIM!” Josh completely ignored the pools of blood and tears now forming below him. He was willing to take all the pain as long as Chris was safe. He'd die to keep him safe. “Please.” Josh begged, he would have fallen to his knees if he could, the pain and cold still had him immobilized. Hannah smirked, glaring at Josh. “Oh, and what are you going to do about it?” Josh didn't know. He refused to let Chris get hurt. Refused to be the cause of anymore of his pain. “We can hear you.”

Josh felt something in his hand. Looking down, he saw a magnum now in his hand. Where did it come from? Why did he have it? The girls answered this question quite easily. “Josh. Would you please do the honors?” Josh could feel his legs begin to move on their own, he couldn't fight it. He began to walk towards Chris. “J-Josh? What are you doing? Shoot them!” Chris pleaded with him, but Josh couldn't reply at all, no words could escape his mouth, all were trapped in his head. “Sorry Chris. Joshy boy is ours.” Josh looked into Chris' eyes. Utter horror and disbelief across his entire body.

“Josh please. Don't do this.” Tears now ran down his cheeks. “Josh say something!” Hannah ran her hand down Chris' cheek as Josh still slowly approached. “ We'll never give him back.” Josh was now only three feet from Chris. Tears streaming down both of their faces, Josh only able to change expressions. His look was with utter agony and terror. His hand slowly raised, the magnum now pointing at Chris' skull. “Josh.” Chris spoke with despair. Josh chocked out the words he wished to speak. “I wont! Chris! I love you!” Chris smiled as Josh's body pulled the trigger. The sound of the magnum echoed in the silence. Josh watched in horror as blood and chunks of skull and brain shot from the back of Chris' head.

His body slumped and he fell forward, blood slowly covering the pure black nothingness around him. Josh dropped the magnum, tears streaming down his eyes. “No. Chris.” He gasped out the words, dropping down beside Chris' body, hoping he was still alive somehow. Beth's voice sounded in his ear. “See. You killed him. Just like you did us. How does that make you feel? Knowing you killed the ones you loved most?” Josh had no more room for emotion left. Nothing mattered to him now, Chris was dead.

“Please. Just let me die.” No emotion was in his voice. No sorrow, no despair, just one simple request. “Let me die.” Beth knelt down beside him. “You sure? You don't want to live with us anymore?” Josh looked at her, or what could have been her. “Let. Me. Die.” Josh looked back down to Chris, a gun laid beside him, blood slowly pooling towards it. Hannah was now knelt beside him. “It's your choice. You could stay with us, or leave. Finally obtain your one, true, wish.” Josh slowly moved his now numb body towards the gun, wrapping his fingers around it. He brought the gun up to the side of his head and stared down at Chris, his smile still slightly present. “I'm sorry.” Josh pulled the trigger, everything went dark. Nothingness now surrounding him, complete silence.

He looked around, searching for something, anything. The feeling of nothingness surrounding him. No air, no temperature, no movement, just darkness. _Is this what death feels like? Nothing? Maybe this is actually hell, but, where am I?_ Josh just drifted there, no form of stable ground, or ways to even know if he was moving at all. Maybe, this void, was now what he was. Suddenly, through the darkness a light came to view. Piercingly violent, and slowly becoming more and more intense, the same white light he had seen earlier. He could hear Chris' voice now, sounding afraid, confused, desperate. “Josh, whats wrong!? Please stop running! I can barely see!” What did he mean?

The nothingness around Josh slowly dissipated, now becoming cold, and wet. The strong smell of water, rain. He suddenly found himself outside, tired, Chris chasing close behind him. How did he get outside? Josh looked down to his feet, bare, standing atop asphalt. “Josh?” Chris was heaving, barely in view. “Chris? Where am I? Why are we outside?” He had so many questions, these seemed most valuable to ask. Josh was now soaking wet, freezing, to confused to move. “I don't know Josh, you jus-” Chris stared at Josh, whose gaze shifted away to his side. “Josh!” All Josh could see were two bright lights, speeding, wavering towards him.

Time felt as if it suddenly went still. Everything slowing to a near stop. Josh could hear loud screeching and squealing. Slowly past the lights, he could see, a car. Speeding towards him, the driver attempting to steer away, the slippery roads preventing any progress. The cars tires turned, the car turning, sliding, Josh in its direct path, the passenger side now speeding towards him, slowly. Josh could no longer feel the rain, the cold. All he could hear was Chris calling his name, the tires squeaking against the wet asphalt. Josh turned his head, despair, sadness, nothing could possible describe how he felt. His final sight, Chris, face contorted in terror. Josh felt his body jerk, shaking all of his bones. Yet, there was no pain? Why? Everything became dark. The nothingness from before, returning to claim him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chris' body went cold, shock and horror filling his mind. Watching as Josh's body was slammed by the car, sickening cracks, and a loud thud. Josh was sent back several feet, skidding along the pavement, blood mixing into the water covering the world around them. Chris ignored all fears, pushing himself past the shock. His legs felt heavy but he forced them to run, to make sure Josh was still alive. Through the white misty rain, Chris could only see Josh's feet, and the crimson blood pathing towards them. 

Chris ran past the car, now stopped in the round. Someone opening the door and standing. He ignored them and kept running. “Josh!” More and more came into view as he approached. His steps were the only sound he could hear, each echoing out. Chris could now see the entirety of Josh's body. Lying on the ground motionless, limp, his legs contorted in inhuman ways. Cuts and bruising on his arms. Chris began feeling sick, the sight of the blood being to much for him. Forcing it to stay in his stomach, leaving a burning sensation in his throat, he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, warm against his skin.

“You can't die. You promised.” I refuse to let him. Chris grabbed Josh's hand, wrist obviously broken in several places. The coldness of Josh's skins against his fingers made him shutter. He moved his middle and index fingers along his wrist, trying to find a pulse, hoping. “You aren't dead. Not until I know, you aren't dead.” The driver of the vehicle came up behind him. Startling him slightly, their voice female. “Is he okay? I'm going to call 9-1-1.” Chris didn't look away, didn't reply. Pressing down slightly harder, he felt something. A small drum of hope, beating in the stillness of his body, barely making sound. Against Chris' skin though, it felt like a concert of only drums, hitting together in sequence.

The woman placed her phone beside Chris. Covered in water. “Tell them he's okay. Please.” Chris could see she had pink finger nail polish, and pail skin. Chris took the phone from her hand, choking back tears and vomit. “Sir, is he okay?” The phone was cold against his ear and felt like a brick. “He has a pulse. But, he's not moving at all. I think most of his bones are broken. Please. Please. Don't let him die.” Chris had no idea how long the ambulance would take to get there, he would rush Josh to the hospital but his body looked fragile, broken, he was too afraid to move him an inch. “Okay sir. An ambulance is on its way. They'll be there soon. Your friend's going to be alright.” The words seemed to mean nothing to him. Holding the phone away from his face, the female took it from his hand. “Oh my god. I-I'm sorry. This is all my fault. I didn't mean to hit him. I tried to stop. I tried. I'm so sorry.” Her voice seemed panicked. “You shouldn't have been going so fast, and he shouldn't have been outside.” Chris' tone was dark, emotionless and cold. All he could do now was wait and hope. He reached out and grabbed onto the cold, motionless hands, afraid to let go, to lose him.

The rain now seemed fitting. Dark, sad, lonely. All things that could describe how Chris was feeling now. All the old thoughts of him and Josh going through his head. The times they would talk, heart to heart. The late night texts when Josh's depression would hit hard. The laughs, the sight seeing, the adventure, and their appreciation for one another. All of that now hung on a thin line, threaded on the scalpel of the future doctors Josh would need to save him. A small part of him wanted to believe it was just a few broken bones, maybe he hit his head on the ground to hard and was just knocked out. On the other side, he wondered if he was destined to be dead. Maybe he's passing over slowly in his grip? The sounds of sirens slowly approached, barely heard in the cold rain and clacking of Chris' shivering teeth.

The water around him began to flash a dark blue and red. Slowly coming close. Chris turned his head to see what it was. The ambulance was slowly backing up beside him. Stopping, two men opened the back doors. Pulling out a stretcher, one walked over to Chris and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Sir, you need to let go. Then we can help him.” The concerned look on the mans face made him feel somewhat at ease, enough to be willing to let go. “Please, don't let him die.” His words were desperate, sorrowful, as if he was ready to accept bad news. “We promise sir. We wont have enough room for you to ride along, even with this bad whether, you can follow, but you will need to be very careful.” They began to carefully place Josh on the stretcher, his bones and skin stretching in unnatural ways. Chris watched every motion the responders made, making sure they didn't hurt Josh.

They carefully walked Josh to the back of the ambulance, bringing him inside. Closing the doors, they crept away. Chris watched until they were out of view entirely. He didn't want to leave his side, but knew it was the best thing for him. He was still knelt down by the waning pool of Josh's crimson life. Sobbing softly. The woman was still there, calmer than before. “Hey. I'm really sorry. “ She said meekly. Chris didn't really care how she felt, not much mattered at the moment. “ Just.” Chris sighed. “Just go already. You wont get in trouble, the police are probably to busy. Please, leave.” Chris could feel a warm hand grab his shoulder. The woman knelt down and hugged him. “Tell your boyfriend I feel terrible, and owe him a drink sometime.” Chris didn't bother to explain their relationship. “He... Okay. I'll tell him when he's up.” The woman slipper her hand off his shoulder and walked back to her car, driving off.


	5. Chapter 5

        Chris rose, his body like lead, but weighted by all the gravity in the world. _What happened to you Josh? What was that? Were your dreams really that bad?_ Chris walked back to the home, wet gravel crunching beneath him. He debated following directly after the ambulance, knowing it was dangerous to drive. He already knew the answer, he no longer cared about himself, only for the safety of Josh. He owed him that.

        Reaching his own car, he realized that it was lock. Walking back inside the open doors of the home, he walked over to where he had placed his stuff, directly beside the couch. Picking up his keys he noticed a notepad that wasn't there when he first arrived, an ink pen resting atop. Curiosity filling him, he lifted it and began flipping through the pages. All the pictures were of, figures, shapes. Almost like an illustrated dream journal, only, these were definitely not dreams, more of a living terror. Each picture was more and more grotesque. Always involving two womanly figures. _Why didn't he tell me?_ Flipping through each page felt like an individual knife being driven into his chest. As he flipped to the last page, something fell out. A folded white paper fluttered to the ground beside Chris' soaking feet.

        Crouching down, Chris lifted it up, unfolding it delicately. To his surprise, the picture was different from the others. A man, held above the air, a halo above his head that drooped towards his chest, the same two woman beside him. The focus wasn't on them like all the other pictures. They were faded, small. It focused the man. Vivid, bright colors used to fill his features. After analyzing it for several seconds, observing every minute detail, Chris broke down into tears. _Is this, me? Is this why? Did he think that he was hurting me? Is this why he wanted me to leave?_ He forcefully composed himself, his body feeling much more flimsy than before. He folded the note paper and slipped it in his coat, rushing out the door to his car.

        Opening the door he slipped in, fumbling with his hands until the key final connected with the ignition. The car came to life, he reversed out the drive way, heading in the direction of the hospital. Traffic was light, the roads soaking, rain still falling, not quiet as heavy. As he drive, his mind began to think about the drawings. He couldn't help but blame himself. “It's all my fault isn't it? I'm the one he was trying to protect. I'm supposed to be protecting him! He's going to die, and it will be all my fault.” His eyes began to blur from tears, taking one hand off the wheel, he wiped them away. “All my fault. He doesn't deserve to die. I would happily trade him places.”

       Chris pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Parking near the door he turned off his car, running to the doors. The cold air stinging his warm eyes. Rushing in through the automatic doors, he jogged to the desk manage. “Do you need something, sir?” The small woman replied, her rosy cheeks smiling. “Y-Yes.” He was shivering slightly. “I'm here to see Josh Washington, he was hit by a car and the para-” The woman interrupted him, lowering her voice and waving over a nurse. “Okay sir, I need you to follow the nurse. Okay?” Chris was confused. “What? Why?” The nurse ushered him off into the halls.

       Leading him to a small, dimly lit room. It made him uneasy. Hospitals made him uneasy. This was the place where angels were born into the other worlds. The nurse walked out, leaving him alone. All there was were several chairs, a small table, and a window covering the far wall. Seconds later a doctor walked in, shutting the door behind him. Chris' heart began to sink, every possible fear he had could happen. “Doctor, please, is he okay?” The doctor hushed Chris with his hands, motioning him to sit down. Following, he sat in the small chair, he eyes focusing on the doors. “Josh suffered a bad accident, which we know you are well aware of.” Deeper and deeper his heart sank, practically on the ground. “Right now he is stable, but, he has massive bruising and severely broken bones. We can't be completely sure if he will wake up, all we can say is, if he does, we doubt it will be soon.”

       Chris wasn't sure how to reply. All he could think of was the doctors words. They didn't know if he would wake up. Did that mean? “Are you.. Is he, in a coma?” The words seemed impossible to push out, impossible to be true. The doctor simply nodded. Chris dropped his head into his hands, sobbing silently to himself, blaming himself. “You can't see him yet, he's in the OR, but you may wait here if you wish. We could keep you updated on his condition.” Chris didn't reply, he simply sat there. “We're very sorry.” The words of someone already lost, the words telling you to mourn. Chris sat there, thinking of Josh. _Is he in pain? Was, he in pain? Did he feel everything?_ Chris hated the thought of Josh being in pain, but how could he be sure, sure that he didn't feel every misplaced bone in his body. He couldn't. All he could do was hope, he didn't know if hope alone would save him.

       Chris slipped off the chair, onto his knees. Uncovering his eyes, he stared at the ceiling. Moving his hands in front of the center of his face, he prayed. Prayed to a god he had never believed in, but, he didn't care. He wanted every chance he had to put the odds in Josh's favor. _I know, I've never believed in any of this before, but please, please, don't let him die. I'll pay anything for his life. Please, take me instead. He doesn't deserve all of this. He didn't do anything wrong. Please._ Opening his eyes, he still sat there, turning to stare out the window.

       Crawling to the far end of the room, he sat on the floor, staring out the window. _Familiar._ Josh used to do the same thing. Just sit there, silently mourning the dead. Alone. Living in absolute hell. He missed Josh. His touch, his soft skin, wonderful, blazing, smile. He missed everything. All he wanted was to be able to hold him again, caress his hair, talk to him again. Now, that was all hanging on a prayer. Thunder cracked. Chris simply watched, not reacting at all. Now, he had to wait. The good or the bad, he had no way of knowing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long and is so short. Ive just had to deal with things lately. I'll try as hard as I can to finish this soon.

      Again, the familiar darkness surrounded Josh. The only difference was the lack of silence from before. Now, a loud beep could be heard occasionally. Each an exact distance apart. Josh looked down towards how own body. He now wore a light blue hospital gown, his black briefs comfortably underneath. _A hospital? Does that mean I'm not dead?_ He pondered to himself in the timeless abyss. The only way of knowing how much time had passed was the constant beep of what he assumed was a heart rate monitor.

      His soft, olive hands ran down the length of the gown, now one of the only things her could be sure of feeling. He suddenly felt a chill. His feet were now firmly placed on a black and white tile floor. The smell of bleach around him. The beeping sounded louder than before. He shut his eyes inhaling deeply. His body became warm, weighed down, and he could feel something soft against the palms of his flattened hands. Opening his eyes, he could see. Light blue sheets, a cream colored wall, a window, several medical instruments and machines.

      A small knock could be heard just outside of his peripherals. The door opened and closed. A familiar voice sounded “Hey.” Chris walked over and pulled a chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted. His blond hair was a mess, new clothes, and the area around his eyes were red as if he had been crying for hours. Josh opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Startled, he tried to move his hands. Again. Nothing happened. All he could manage was to turn his head slightly, open his eyes, breathe. Nothing more. Chris' voice sounded grim and matched the exhaustion that was visible by his appearance. “I don't know if you can hear me, but I heard somewhere sometimes people in comas can.” _A come? What? I'm looking right at you!_

      “The doctors just let me come in to see you. I was waiting in a weird room for two hours. Rude, huh?” The small chuckle from Chris seemed forced, his eyes never looked up to Josh. Just at his hands. _Christopher please! Look at me! I'm awake!_ Chris began to sob, lightly enough so even Josh could barely hear. “I don't know what happened, but, I'm sorry I didn't help you.” Chris reached out and grabbed Josh's hand, placing his forehead against it and just sobbing into the bed. His face felt soft, but oily. Josh tried with all of his might to make a sound, tried to move his hands, his feet, anything to show Chris he was there, he was alive!

      Chris' head turned to meet Josh's eyes. A smile crept across Josh's face. Happy that he finally looked up to see he was awake. “You look so calm when you're asleep.” His hushed tone sounded mournful. _Asleep? My eyes are open you idiot! This isn't a good joke!_ Chris sat there for the next hour. Rubbing the back of Josh's hand, telling stories, apologies, all while Josh screamed as loud as he could, internally.

      Chris stopped talking and looked up at the clock. Then, towards the open window. “It's stopped raining now. The doctors said I'd have to leave sometime soon so they could do some more tests and stuff.” Chris stood up and moved his chair back to where it was originally. “Sorry I can't stay longer.” Chris leaned over and kissed Josh on the forehead and silently walked out of the room. _Could he really not see? Am I really in a coma?_ Josh was now thrusted back into the darkness he had come from. Thoughts, Ideas, hopes, all rushed through his mind. The only thing he could hear was the beeping again. His throat began to hurt, his eyes welled up. The thought that Chris had no idea whether he was okay or not and couldn't see him, it made him feel, broken, desperate, ashamed. All of the pain Chris was having to endure, all for his sake. It all seemed so twisted and perverse. Selfish, even.

      “Why?” The words escaped from his mouth, the sound surprising him. He didn't know what he was asking. It just felt right. It felt right to question everything. His life, his choices, the decisions others made in his sake. All with a simple “Why?” The sound of the beeping slowly faded as he stopped paying any and all attention to it. What felt like nothing to him was more likely to be hours in reality. This thought came to him often. No real reason why.

      His eyes felt tired. He was afraid to close them. Afraid to be thrusted back into his false reality or worse, back into his own devilish dreams. The weight of his eyelids seemed like they were stone. He tried to keep himself awake, tried to keep himself focused, distracted, anything. He couldn't really do that though, nothing around him, no sounds, no objects. Slowly, his eyes shut and he drifted further into sleep.

      It was peaceful. Nothing happening. No dreams. Simply existing, for a lack of better description. He really didn't have a way of telling if he was asleep or not. Time was irrelevant to him, he had no way of feeling much of anything. His eyes felt less heavy though. He thought to himself for what was probably a while, and finally decided that opening them was the best he could do right now. Slightly hesitant at first, his eyes slowly fluttered open. His heart immediately sank, his knees became like paper in a tornado, useless and limp. He fell to the damp, rocky floor. Never wanting to get up. He simply whispered “No.”


End file.
